


Carl Sagan's Library Card

by plasticdaisy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Humanstuck, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, POV First Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 21:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticdaisy/pseuds/plasticdaisy
Summary: On a night when the universe feels just a little too big and a little too lonely, Dave and Karkat go on a drive.





	Carl Sagan's Library Card

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittyMotor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyMotor/gifts).

"Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every 'superstar,' every 'supreme leader,' every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam."

\- Carl Sagan, _Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space_

* * *

“Do you ever just want to leave?”

I exhale, shifting to face Karkat. I’m lying on my back on his bed, stirring in some kind of mindless melancholy. He’s looking at me expectantly, his hands curled up in his lap – he’s not feeling well, either.

Even though he’s only a few feet away from me – settled in his desk chair – he feels eons away. _I wish he was closer_, I think to myself, and though I beckon it to disappear, the thought digs into my chest and makes a home there.

“… All the time, man,” I scoff, turning my gaze back towards the empty ceiling, “I mean, who doesn’t dream of, like … _escape_.”

I hear him grunt in acknowledgement and slight irritation; that wasn’t the right answer. I sigh, pushing myself up to sit properly on his bed. I cross my legs under myself, stretching my neck as I face him and blink the fatigue from my eyes.

“Alright, dude, I’ll bite: what’s up?”

He bristles, his brow furrowing.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re best friends,” I clarify with a wave of a hand, “I can tell the difference between meaningless philosophical bullshit and when there’s a problem.”

“There’s not a problem.”

“Mm,” I fall back down onto his bed, “alright.”

It’s two in the morning, and to be honest, I’d like to be asleep. But, Karkat has been working a lot the past few days, and I haven’t seen him – since we left school, we’ve seen each other less and less. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, but things always change. Sometimes, our friendship feels like something I can see leaving but cannot chase; it crawls across the sky like a plane, leaving a trail of memories and disappearing over the horizon.

I’m not sure if I’m just paranoid because I’m in love with him – perhaps, the idea that it most likely goes unrequited scares me, for he will inevitably fall into someone else’s arms, and I will watch as he fades into the clouds.

“Dave?”

I perk up at the sound of Karkat’s voice; he suddenly sounds so small, his voice bordering on silence, barely audible over the hissing of the oil diffuser on his desk. Sitting up again, my gaze falls on him. He’s looking at his hands.

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t answer. I move onto my feet, which sting from falling asleep. I stumble to his side, opening my arms. He stands, returning my embrace and shoving his face into my shoulder. He holds me so _tight_ it feels like he might think I’d disappear if he’d let go.

If only he knew there’s no place I’d rather be.

I don’t say anything, because my chest seizes up at the thought of him upset. I’ve never been good at emotions, but he knows that – I squeeze him, and he returns the gesture, nuzzling into me. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I can hear his breathing, a little fast, and I can feel the warmth of his face against my neck. He’s always so warm.

A few minutes pass; the silence is not unbearable, because I focus on the room. The clock ticking. The tap of the white, flowering tree outside against the window. Cars passing.

“… You okay?” I manage, the words aching as they emerge from my throat, leaving a thickness behind that makes my voice shake.

“Yeah,” his voice is a little hoarse as he pulls away from me. His hands linger for a moment, but eventually fall to his sides. He looks tired; he won’t meet my gaze; I suspect the shades aren’t helping that, though.

I push them up. He looks up at me. He seems to search my eyes, but he always does when I bare them. I wonder if it’s because they are somewhat of a rarity even to him – an anomaly in all contexts. With anyone else, it would feel uncomfortable, but with him, it’s like staring into a roaring fire. The coals of his warm eyes invite reignition, soft and full of kindness. _I do not deserve to look into them_, I think, though I imagine he would argue me on that.

“… Can we go for a drive?” he asks, and I nod.

“Whatever you want, man.”

We take his car, because I skated to his house. I throw my skateboard into his trunk before I settle in the passenger seat. He drives – he likes driving. I do not.

His car is comfortable. It feels homey; maybe because it smells like him. I’m not sure. He has an array of blankets in the back seat, but they are somehow neatly piled there. He has always been much neater than I am. A copy of Carl Sagan’s _The Blue Dot_ is on the floor. Underneath it is _Romeo and Juliet_. I can’t see the title of a third book, which disappears under the seat.

I curl up against the door, leaning my head back against the cool surface of the window as Karkat drives. We leave our hometown, passing fields that melt into the indigo sky and trees that reach up towards the stars. Karkat had set up a queue before we left, but it quickly runs out. I supplement with my own music and his quiet suggestions.

After ten minutes, I reach over and take his hand.

When he stops driving, it’s four in the morning. He parks the car on the shoulder near a field. There’s a fence. When he puts the car in park, he yawns, turning and looking at me.

“Do you know where we are?” he asks.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

I push up my shades again, rubbing my eyes. When I go to lower them again, he looks at me with a silent, pleading stare. I leave them off, folding them and stashing them in one of his cup holders. I make a mental note not to forget them.

“… It’s weird, isn’t it,” Karkat says, suddenly, turning and looking out the windshield, “there’s so much going on out in the world, and we see so little of it. It fucking sucks.”

“We’ve got a lot of time to see more,” I reply quietly.

He looks back at me.

“I guess you’re right.”

I sigh. Looking between him and the sky, I’m not sure what’s more mysterious and beautiful. When his eyes fall on me, I can see stardust in his skin. I have a fascination with his light.

“What?” he scoffs. I blink; had I been staring at him?

“What,” I repeat, more of a statement than anything.

“What are you looking at?” his brow furrows.

My gaze falls down to my legs. I shrug.

I hear rustling as Karkat shifts, and I look up again to see him holding a book. He reaches up and flicks on the light. I wince, adjusting to the yellowed-out brightness that fills the space. It tints his cheeks, like he’s made of the sun. He smooths out a page in the book. It’s a photo of the night sky – or something like that. Vague stripes of color wipe across the surface of the grainy image, which has only one distinctive feature: a small blue dot.

Beside it is the phrase:

_‘Look again at that dot._

_That’s here. _

_That’s home._

_That’s us.’_

Karkat meets my eyes. His gaze is deep, and full of a tenderness I will never get used to, but that I hold so dearly to my heart. His stare makes me feel small, but in the same way I feel looking at the picture in that book, or at the night sky; I feel so insignificant but so incredibly important all at the same time. As if the meaninglessness of my own life in the grand scheme of the universe is a comfort, because I get to live it as myself. As someone who will love, and live, and experience my own time in a way I see fit.

And, perhaps, experience it with Karkat.

His brows are furrowed so tightly; I reach out, slowly, and touch his cheek. He leans into it, closing his eyes. His face relaxes.

“Karkat?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

In the content quiet of the nighttime, only overtaken by the buzz of the car running and our breathing, my voice echoes like an avalanche. I feel fragile.

He nods.

“Yes.”

I lean in, capturing his lips. The kiss is tender, soft, and sweet. It lasts for a few moments, as we melt into each other, passing galaxies between us. I have been waiting a lifetime to kiss him like this, it feels like – to show him how much he means to me with a single action that will live in our memories for an eternity. When we break apart, my lips are trembling. It feels like my chest is full of butterflies, like they’re flying up to my head and out into the car. I run a hand through his hair and his breath hitches. His eyes close.

_I am in love. _

Karkat folds down the seats, arranging his blankets and pillows. I lay down beside him on the floor of the car, curling up against him. His arms wrap around me, and he pulls me closer than I’ve felt to him. It’s like he’s always been just a little too far to reach, and now I can finally grasp him and feel the warmth of his skin.

I shift my head, looking into his eyes. Our gazes dart back and forth, searching and finding so many things without names. Constellations of emotions, all wrapping around our pale blue dot. We are here. We are now.

I am insignificant in a universe that is infinite, vast, and lonely – but I am _home_.


End file.
